P.S. This is the vlog version if you prefer to watch me talk through it.

The Night It All Started

It was just another night—me and the wife roasting each other like usual. Mid-burn, she stops and squints at my neck.

“Wait… what the hell is that?”

I figure she’s gearing up for a punchline. “What, just now noticing my gains?” I flex, joking, but she’s not laughing. She pokes at this one spot like something’s off.

I reach up. Yup. There’s a lump.

I didn’t freak out. I’d felt it before—chalked it up to old lifting days. Probably just some leftover neck bulk. I throw out, “Bet you still can’t choke me out,” and she gives it a try. Still can’t. We laugh. Move on.

But that dumb little moment? That’s the only reason I caught it. Without that roast, I’d have stayed clueless.

The Moment of Realization

The lump wasn’t new. I’d felt it before. Just figured it was muscle. Classic bro logic.

COVID hit, and like most people, I let myself go. Work, being a dad—just surviving. I wasn’t in peak shape, but I was still carrying some of that old-school mass. It never occurred to me that something might be wrong.

The First Doctor Visit

Good thing there’s a clinic near the house. Doc checks the lump, straight-up recommends an ultrasound.

I ask, “Should I be worried?”

He gives me that look. Doesn’t say much, but the silence is loud.

Sends me to an ENT. This guy has one of those plaques on the wall—some record for surgeries. I figure, alright, this dude’s seen some stuff.

He breaks it down: women get thyroid tumors all the time, and most are benign. For men? Stats aren’t as kind.

The Ultrasound & First Biopsy

I schedule the ultrasound for 4 AM. Pro tip: no lines that early. Results come back: TIRADS 4. In other words, “meh, but probably not good.”

I go back to the ENT. He barely blinks before saying, “Let’s biopsy it.”

Cool. Let’s go.

I’m upright in the chair while he goes at my neck with a needle like he’s on a time limit. Even with anesthesia, my body’s not buying it. Soon as it’s over, I feel like puking.

Then the results come in: inconclusive. Hemorrhagic material. Basically, we got blood and no answers.

The Second Biopsy

Round two.

This time it’s ultrasound-guided—more accurate, less stabby.

Small town perks: the new doctor knew my wife from way back, so he helped fast-track it. And by chance, one of the top pathologists in the country was visiting. He’s tight with my doctor, so while they’re pulling the sample, the guy’s already looking at it.

This time it feels controlled. Calmer. Like actual medicine.

Midway through, doc leans over: “You wanna hear what we’re seeing now?”

“Yeah. Hit me.”

“Looks like papillary thyroid carcinoma. But hey—most curable type.”

And the weirdest part? I felt fine. No symptoms. Nothing. If my wife hadn’t roasted me that night, I’d still be walking around, business as usual.

Why Am I Doing This?

No, I’m not launching a supplement line. I’m not selling courses or mindset hacks.

I just wanted to get it out. For me. Maybe for someone else sitting on a weird lump and putting it off.

Legacy, AI, and What’s Next

The way AI’s going, I figure a version of me will be floating around long after I’m gone. My kids, grandkids—whoever—might still be able to ask fake-me questions and get real-me sarcasm.

I’ll be out here, still talking shit from the cloud.

Anyway, that’s the diagnosis part. Surgery’s next. And getting that done in a rural part of the Philippines? That’s its own saga.

I’ll get into that soon.

Later.